Teen Hyde (High School Horror Story #2)(37)

Lena’s three staccato warning knocks on the door pulled me back into myself. My chest heaved. My neck was hot. Shoot. I imagined California walking in to find me destroying Mick’s computer. Not here. Not now. I pressed my fist into my teeth, trying to think. Quickly, I leaned back over the open windowsill and stared down. There was a row of bushes underneath. I stared at the laptop still clutched between both hands. I wasn’t exactly a technology buff, but I was pretty sure no history papers would be written on this thing anytime soon. I released my grip and watched as the computer plummeted down into the row of hedges, disappearing beneath the thick leaves with a barely audible ker-thunk.

I could hear Lena’s voice outside trying to stall. The handle was twisting. I braced myself. Wrapped my hand tightly around the knife handle. But it wasn’t California’s head that popped through. It was a crop of strawberry blond hair and a freckled nose. California’s—Jessup’s—girlfriend’s breath caught when she saw me standing beside the desks. I waited for an instant but then saw that she was alone. No Jessup in sight.

I relaxed slightly. If I felt sorry for people, I would have felt sorry for her. Stupid baby deer of a girlfriend. What would she do if she knew about the other girls hidden on the memory card? The ones that didn’t get flowers on their birthday or take piggyback rides like she did. The ones that, as far as her boyfriend was concerned, didn’t even have names.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she asked. “Mick hasn’t been back.”

“I wasn’t looking for Mick,” I said.

Her lips closed and her eyes narrowed. “Jessup?” By the way she said his name, I got the sense that maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched that Jessup would have a lady visitor.

Good. Let her think it.

I moved toward the door and, as though it was despite herself, she shifted out of my way. Maybe this girl’s interruption wasn’t such a bad thing. Perhaps even if stupid baby deer girlfriend wasn’t capable of seeing what a creep her boyfriend was she might still be capable of conveying a message. Or a warning. “Tell Jessup I’ll be back for him later,” I said with a casual look over my shoulder. “Another time.”

Her skin reddened, blurring the freckles. “And why would I do that?”

I shrugged, halfway out the door. “Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. I like surprises just as much.”

Her lower jaw dropped a centimeter. But she couldn’t think of a comeback. I winked. And then I was gone.





THIRTEEN

Cassidy

I didn’t trust myself.

Even when I woke up in sweatpants and a T-shirt and, as far as I could tell, nothing had changed, I didn’t trust myself.

My limbs still felt pleasantly warm and lithe, the lingering effects of last night’s dose of Sunshine, but the moment my alarm went off, doubt began creeping in. I stared up at the ceiling for as long as I could, trying to convince myself that all was well. I was in my bed. I felt healthy. Reasonably happy.

I once read an article in a teen magazine that said trust was the most important thing in any good relationship. I guessed they were right because I didn’t trust myself and my relationship with me was quickly deteriorating.

I clambered out of bed and began dressing. Meanwhile, the feeling of unease grew. I washed and blow-dried my hair. I put on pink lipstick and mascara. I shimmied into jeans that fit and a cream top with ruffles on the sleeves. When I looked in the mirror I saw a very convincing version of myself. Pretty. Put together. In control.

What was it, then, that gave me away?

I stared harder at my reflection. It felt like a ghost of someone else lingered right there with me, just out of sight.

I flicked off the light and called for Honor to hurry up or else we’d be late for first period. Then, I went downstairs and threw my bag in the backseat and climbed in to wait for her. When I twisted the key in the ignition the dashboard lit up.

My heart sputtered with the engine. When I got home last night, I’d checked the mileage. I’d memorized it.

Now staring at me from behind my steering wheel was a number that was fifty miles more. Nowhere in town would be that far. The closest city was about twenty-five miles away. And it was Dearborn.

Honor appeared, hustling out the front door. A flannel shirt hung halfway off her shoulder and she was trying to tug it up while balancing a stack of books. I turned my face into a mask of calm. Underneath, though, my heartbeat skipped wildly out of control. And my knuckles turned white as they wrapped themselves into a death grip around the leather wheel. I felt like someone was haunting me. But I was pretty sure that someone was me.

I repressed a shudder. Honor tumbled into the seat beside me with a huff.

“Sorry,” she said, breathless.

I smiled at her and helped her push her book bag into the backseat. “That’s okay.”

I let her choose the radio station as we drove to school.

“You’re an actress, Honor,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

She sat up straighter and adjusted the chest strap on her seat belt. “I guess. I only have a really small speaking part in the play this semester.”

I shrugged. “You’re only a freshman, silly. So, when you’re acting, you’re trying to convince the audience that you’re someone other than who you actually are, right?” She nodded. “How do you do that?” I asked, for once genuinely interested.